#geillis duncan

[themusicsweetly]

New photos from Outlander Season 7B

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 3 EPISODE 13 || EYE OF THE STORM ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

“This way,” I said. Within ten paces, I saw the light. It was no more than a faint glow on the rocks of the passage, but it was enough to restore the gift of sight. Suddenly, I could see my hands and feet, though dimly.

My breath came out in something like a sob, of relief and fear. I felt like a ghost taking shape as I walked toward the light and the soft bell-hum before me. The light was stronger, now, then dimmed again as Jamie slid in front of me, and his back blocked my view. Then he bent and stepped through a low archway. I followed, and stood up in light. It was a good-sized chamber, the walls farthest from the torch still cold and black with the slumber of the cave. The wall before us had wakened, though. It flickered and gleamed, particles of embedded mineral reflecting the flames of a pine torch, fixed in a crevice.

“So ye came, did you?”

Geillis was on her knees, eyes fixed on a glittering stream of white powder that fell from her folded fist, drawing a line on the dark floor. I heard a small sound from Jamie, half relief, half horror, as he saw Ian. The boy lay in the middle of the pentacle on his side, hands bound behind him, gagged with a strip of white cloth. Next to him lay an ax. It was made of a shiny dark stone, like obsidian, with a sharp, chipped edge. The handle was covered with gaudy beadwork, in an African pattern of stripes and zigzags.

“Don’t come any closer, fox.” Geilie sat back on her heels, showing her teeth to Jamie in an expression that was not a smile. She held a pistol in one hand; its fellow, charged and cocked, was thrust through the leather belt she wore about her waist. Eyes fixed on Jamie, she reached into the pouch suspended from the belt and withdrew another handful of diamond dust. I could see beads of sweat standing on her broad white brow; the bell-hum from the time-passage must be reaching her as it reached me. I felt sick, and the sweat ran down my body in trickles under my clothes. The pattern was almost finished. With the pistol carefully trained, she dribbled out the thin, shining stream until she had completed the pentagram. The stones were already laid inside it—they glinted from the floor in sparks of color, connected by a gleaming line of poured quicksilver. “There, then.” She sat back on her heels with a sigh of relief, and wiped the thick, creamy hair back with one hand. “Safe. The diamond dust keeps out the noise,” she explained to me. “Nasty, isn’t it?” She patted Ian, who lay bound and gagged on the ground in front of her, his eyes wide with fear above the white cloth of the gag. “There, there, mo chridhe. Dinna fret, it will be soon over.” “Take your hand off him, ye wicked bitch!” Jamie took an impulsive step forward, hand on his dirk, then stopped, as she lifted the barrel of the pistol an inch. “Ye mind me o’ your uncle Dougal, a sionnach,” she said, tilting her head to one side coquettishly. “He was older when I met him than you are now, but you’ve the look of him about ye, aye? Like ye’d take what ye pleased and damn anyone who stands in your way.” Jamie looked at Ian, curled on the floor, then up at Geilie. “I’ll take what’s mine,” he said softly. “But ye can’t, now, can ye?” she said, pleasantly. “One more step, and I kill ye dead. I spare ye now, only because Claire seems fond of ye.” Her eyes shifted to me, standing in the shadows behind Jamie. She nodded to me.

“A life for a life, sweet Claire. Ye tried to save me once, on Craigh na Dun; I saved you from the witch-trial at Cranesmuir. We’re quits now, aye?”

Geilie picked up a small bottle, uncorked it, and poured the contents carefully over Ian’s clothes. The smell of brandy rose up, strong and heady, and the torch flared brighter as the fumes of alcohol reached it. Ian bucked and kicked, making a strained noise of protest, and she kicked him sharply in the ribs. “Be still!” she said. “Don’t do it, Geilie,” I said, knowing that words would do no good. “I have to,” she said calmly. “I’m meant to. I’m sorry I shall have to take the girl, but I’ll leave ye the man.” “What girl?” Jamie’s fists were clenched tight at his side, knuckles white even in the dim torchlight. “Brianna? That’s the name, isn’t it?” She shook back her heavy hair, smoothing it out of her face. “The last of Lovat’s line.” She smiled at me.

“What luck ye should have come to see me, aye? I’d never ha’ kent it, otherwise. I thought they’d all died out before 1900.” A thrill of horror shot through me. I could feel the same tremor run through Jamie as his muscles tightened. It must have shown on his face. Geilie cried out sharply and leapt back. She fired as he lunged at her. His head snapped back, and his body twisted, hands still reaching for her throat. Then he fell, his body limp across the edge of the glittering pentagram. There was a strangled moan from Ian. I felt rather than heard a sound rise in my throat. I didn’t know what I had said, but Geilie turned her face in my direction, startled. When Brianna was two, a car had carelessly sideswiped mine, hitting the back door next to where she was sitting. I slowed to a stop, checked briefly to see that she was unhurt, and then bounded out, headed for the other car, which had pulled over a little way ahead. The other driver was a man in his thirties, quite large, and probably entirely self-assured in his dealings with the world. He looked over his shoulder, saw me coming, and hastily rolled up his window, shrinking back in his seat. I had no consciousness of rage or any other emotion; I simply knew, with no shadow of doubt, that I could—and would—shatter the window with my hand, and drag the man out through it. He knew it, too. I thought no further than that, and didn’t have to; the arrival of a police car had recalled me to my normal state of mind, and then I started to shake. But the memory of the look on that man’s face stayed with me. Fire is a poor illuminator, but it would have taken total darkness to conceal that look on Geilie’s face; the sudden realization of what was coming toward her. She jerked the other pistol from her belt and swung it to bear on me; I saw the round hole of the muzzle clearly—and didn’t care. The roar of the discharge caromed through the cave, the echoes sending down showers of rocks and dirt, but by then I had seized the ax from the floor. I noted quite clearly the leather binding, ornamented with a beaded pattern. It was red, with yellow zigzags and black dots. The dots echoed the shiny obsidian of the blade, and the red and yellow picked up the hues of the flaming torch behind her. I heard a noise behind me, but didn’t turn. Reflections of the fire burned red in the pupils of her eyes. The red thing, Jamie had called it. I gave myself to it, he had said. I didn’t need to give myself; it had taken me. There was no fear, no rage, no doubt. Only the stroke of the swinging ax. The shock of it echoed up my arm, and I let go, my fingers numbed. I stood quite still, not even moving when she staggered toward me. Blood in firelight is black, not red. She took one blind step forward and fell, all her muscles gone limp, making no attempt to save herself. The last I saw of her face was her eyes; set wide, beautiful as gemstones, a green water-clear and faceted with the knowledge of death.

Someone was speaking, but the words made no sense. The cleft in the rock buzzed loudly, filling my ears. The torch flickered, flaring sudden yellow in a draft; the beating of the dark angel’s wings, I thought. The sound came again, behind me.

62 ABANDAWE ~ voyager

[cajon-desastre]

Like a compass needle that points north, a man's accusing finger always finds a woman. Always.

Khaled Hosseini

[theawkwardterrier]

Won’t You Walk With Me (out of the mouth of this holler), chapter 2

The tapping on the glass wakes Claire nearly instantly, though the sound is small. She'll never be able to consult her parents on whether or not she was a light sleeper as a child, but at least her upbringing formed her into someone who comes to awareness quickly. As her eyes open, she registers three things: Frank's even, still-sleeping breathing beside her; the clock on the nightstand reading 1:12, illuminated by the moonlight from the opening in the curtains; and the hiss of her own name from beyond the glass, followed by another set of tiny taps, as though a series of small pebbles has been thrown at the pane.

She gets up carefully and moves with light feet to the window, widening the gap in the curtains. Geillis is on the street, cheeks puffing and releasing in relief before she gestures for Claire to join her. Gellis is, Claire knows, the sort like herself who enjoys wringing as much delicious rest out of a night's sleep as she can — or even a morning’s sleep, if she’s feeling particularly indulgent — making it unlikely that she would have arrived in the wee hours like this for something less than an emergency. But Geillis is also simply Claire's friend, and that is already enough for her to glance over her shoulder to ensure that Frank is still sleeping before she dresses as silently as she can and slips downstairs to the back door.

"What's the matter?" she asks immediately as she meets Geillis outside. There is something quite foreboding about even the sound of her own low voice breaking the nighttime hush, a small plume of fog clouding between them in the cold.

She wraps her arms around herself as Geillis shakes her head. "I'll explain on the way. Come wi' me, quickly."

Read more on AO3

[blmoon99]

[theoutlanderevangelist]

1x03 “The Way Out”

[whorcruxes]

The Knight and the Dragon

Claire goes on a quest, seeking vengeance for her husband Jamie’s death.

AO3

[moonyackertarg]

i feel ridiculously proud of this

[entysygnifyir]

Currently watching season one of Outlander (first time!) absolutely LOVE the outfits

[adsosfraser]

Neamhnaid Fola

Neamhnaid Fola [/Nʲãũnɪdʲ/ /ˈfola/]- Blood Pearl

“Ye’re a…” The man sat back further on his haunches, careful to still keep a steady grip on her wrists, dumfounded, “lass.”

or in which Claire Beauchamp murders Jamie Fraser’s betrothed, Laoghaire MacKenzie, minutes before the wedding.

Read on AO3

[wardrobeoftime]

Outlander + Costumes

Geillis Duncan’s grey & white dress in Season 01, Episode 04.

// requested by @faramir-stan​

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 13 || DRAGONFLY IN AMBER ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

[fantasydreamland]

Claire & Geillis

Outlander

[gotham-ruaidh]

Do you think that Gellis is the ancestor of Joe that happens to be Claire's close friend because her last husband surname happens to be the same as Joe? I was always wondered that

Geillis isn't Joe's ancestor. Joe's ancestor was a man named Ishmael, who was a slave on the plantation Geillis owned - when she was known as Geillis Abernathy. He very likely took the surname Abernathy when the plantation was destroyed and he fled to freedom. And Joe came along about 200 years later.

[thewingedwolf]

the thing about the time travelers is that being uprooted from their own time to another fundamentally breaks every single one of them. It’s the shock of it, the way the magic and the experience utterly changes them, remakes them into something that isn’t exactly human anymore and then puts them back together and says “now go try to live your life again.”

it doesn’t matter if they fall through like claire, if they smash through with a bloody purpose like geillis, or they walk through with a prayer like brianna. they all belong to the faeries now and there’s nothing they can do to get around it. down to the way they speak to each other - roger says some pretty fairy words that donner recognizes, speaking a language only they understand. claire’s magical knowledge can’t save her from being hunted and tried as a witch, a faerie, a traitor, a murderess. ottertooth’s cassandra esque warnings of the future do nothing but cause strife among the same people he wanted to save.

even their morality has wholly changed into something else, something inhuman. roger says it himself in the premiere; when you’re scared and alone and desperate and there’s no way to get home, your sense of morality shifts and twists in a vain attempt to protect yourself.

so a doctor becomes a murderess and a freedom fighter becomes a slaver and a holy man watches while a woman and her child are drowned and an independent modern yank loses every shred of what made her stand out and a man who fought the never ending death march of genocide goes back in time and stands frozen as he listens to a woman just like him be tortured and raped and he stands there and does nothing because he’s small and tired and old and he wasn’t even supposed to land in this year and he didn’t even meet his own fucking people anyway and hes scared, so scared, and he just wants to go home.

and geillis and ottertooth and donner are all forced to die in this terrifying, human world. they can never go back to the realm of the faeries because it never even existed. claire going back does not heal her, it breaks her even more. there’s no going back, there’s no going forward, because they are the ones that are wrong now. and all their worst traits get amplified and all their best traits twist into something wicked until geillis’ fanatical devotion to the independence of her people - to the detriment of all others - is what gets her killed. ottertooth’s steely resolve does nothing but get him stubbornly stuck alone in that storm. and donner’s fear for the future eats him whole, and a man that shouldn’t even be in this time lights a match that doesn’t even exist yet, and realizes that his fear will never get him back home but if all he does is drop the match and let the flame consume him, he can find his damning release all the same.

[blmoon99]

Geillis Duncun - Outlander S1